


Paper Planets

by GhostHost



Series: The Edge of the Universe and Other Stupid Places to Live. [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: AI AU, Human AU, Humanformers, Inferno is a forcibly retired firefighter turned head of space tech support, Red Alert is a paranoid AI, and no one treats Red Alert right, and security
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-06-24 12:15:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15630504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostHost/pseuds/GhostHost
Summary: The space station The Lost Light has a bit of a reputation.It's Station AI, Red Alert, has a worse one.Ian “Inferno” López doesn't have a choice. It's the Station Master job or bust, and he's going to put all he has into it. Even if that means most his days are spent winning over Red Alert instead of actually running the Station.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is 50% Anne Leckie's Ancillary series, 40% Martha Wells Murderbot Diaries, and 10% a mystery mix of sci fi books and Zoids. There is no Radch, but there are persnickety AIs. 
> 
> Warnings: Not the best treatment of someone with mental illness, confinement, kind that "AI's aren't people" vibe, etc, etc. As always if you want shit thrown up here toss me a line and I'll add it to the warnings.

Paper Planets

Ch 1

Stupid intruders came and ruined an empty space  
I don't know why I bother fronting a nice face, it's fake

* * *

 

“You’re interested in the Station Master position?” The women at the desk said, peering dubiously at the screen in front of her. “For the _ Lost Light _ ?” 

“Yes.” Ian “Inferno”  López said, not bothering to hold his smile. This was the fourth time he’d been asked this question since he’d arrived at the job center, and the thirteenth time overall since he’d made the decision to apply. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” --and that would be the eleventh time he’d answered _ that  _ question.

“It’s just that--”

“It has a reputation, I’m aware.”  Inferno agreed. 

It  _ was  _ an odd career move. The space station _ Lost Light  _ was widely regarded as a career killer--both figuratively and literally. A lot of people died, and practically none of those deaths were Decepticon related--which meant there was no career advancement to be had. (Not that there was much of it these days anyways, what with the war being “technically” over.) If you did come back, you often had weird things to add to your resume. Things like “Defended 200 personnel against poisonous bubbles.” or “Talked my unit’s way out of a gunfight between two unknown alien species through a vicious round of  _ Uno _ .” Just...

Odd. 

Nevermind that the station was the farthest out in Autobot space. It was practically cut off from the rest of the army, let alone the rest of the universe. If Decepticons did decide to attack in force, there wasn’t much the _ Lost Light _ was going to be able to do about it. 

Inferno didn’t care about any of that. His career was already dead--defeated by a fire rescue gone awry. The injuries he’d sustained had gotten him an early retirement from the force, and the only other skills he had to fall back on was the one he’d originally trained for. The position his parents had wanted him to take all those years ago. 

They were long deceased, but he often imagined the conversation they would have now, if they were still alive. About how he could have avoided this all to begin with if he’d just stuck with the way his family did things. How he’d argue that he didn’t regret a thing, even though he’d never walk without the assistance of a “walker” again. 

The metal device strapped to his waist went all the way to the floor, supporting his legs with pistons and metal loops as it went. It was slightly bulky, and it made a decent amount of noise every time he moved a leg, but it held his weight without issue. Though he wasn’t paralyzed, Inferno couldn’t walk far on his own, and the metal contraption allowed him at least that. 

If he’d had another 200,000 credits available, he could have even gotten the one that let him jog, but he figured that was no longer necessary. Not for that price, anyway. 

“Yes.” The recruiter agreed, using that tone of voice that meant she agreed the  _ Lost Light  _ was a mess but it wasn’t what she was talking about just then. “But so does the Station AI.”

Inferno raised an eyebrow. “How so?” He said. 

“It’s had fifty-two station masters since its installation.” The recruiter finally looked up, trying to hammer home how she serious she was. “It’s not bad, does its job, but people don’t get along with it. It’s apparently rather...paranoid.” She made a face, then added; “The past twenty six Masters have all recommended getting a replacement.” 

That got his attention. Though AI and human personality mismatches weren’t uncommon, recommending a Station AI be replaced was a big deal. Station AI’s were almost impossible to remove without replacing the entire station. Often a replacement couldn’t access the entire station without cascading issues and the old one could too easily make problems for the new. 

Despite the idea that AI’s were supposed to do as commanded, 100% of the time, without any personal input or decision, no one these days was stupid enough to believe they didn’t have minds of their owns. 

Particularly  _ Station _ AIs. 

Still--Inferno didn’t have much of a choice. This was the only available position for a Station Master and likely would be, for some time to come. It was this or sitting around on his ass, collecting retirement and hating life. 

Inferno was done wasting away. 

“You’re welcome to the job of course.” The recruiter was quick to add, her face clear she expected him to reject it. “No one else has bothered to apply and they’re desperate. So long as none of this bothers you.” 

“Honestly? Nah.” Inferno shrugged. “Station AI’s are always weird.” Compared to mechs and personal AI’s, anyway. Even if this one was apparently more weird than normal. 

A Station AI’s job was to control the entire space station, and insure everything on it ran smoothly. They were the first and last defense against everything from a tear in the hull to some idiot smoking in the oxygen storage. It required a seriously powerful AI processor, nevermind any kind of specific programming that required specialized care. Most, if not all, Station AI’s ended up a little odd because of it. 

Nothing Inferno wasn’t prepared for--or that would turn him away, anyways. Not now. 

“I’ll take it, if they’ll have me.” He said. 

The recruiter just shook her head. “Oh they’ll have you.” She murmured, as she processed the paperwork, then handed it over for him to sign. “Good luck.”

He was accepted two days later--without an interview.

He wasn’t surprised.

xXx

The Station AI’s name was Red Alert, and he was definitely weird. 

Inferno stared at his own reflection for a moment--cast in the glass window of the closed, security room door. He was built nicely, muscles that were gained from labor rather than just working out. He was tall enough that window cut his reflections head off, but he could still see wisps of his shaggy brown hair. He’d grown it a touch longer than former regulations had allowed. Station Masters didn’t care if hair got in the way of their helmets after all. 

He hadn’t been on the station longer than a week before he’d ditched the outfit given to him and gone with normal clothing. Seemed like everyone else around him had done it. Might as well join in. The place was small enough to know everyone by sight anyway. 

Inferno took in how his black shirt melted into his tan skin-- before shaking his head and making a fake coughing noise. Then another. 

He didn’t know why he bothered. He knew by know Red Alert wouldn’t answer to that or anything else considered polite. 

He waited a beat anyway, and braced himself when he got nothing. 

Inferno took a breath, before gathering his wits and made the motion to access his implants. It was entirely unneeded--humans had been augmented with a built in computer for decades now--but his were recently redone to fit his new job and the motion helped with the unfamiliarity of the new programs.  ::Red Alert?:: He said over comms, ::Can you let me into the security room?::

A red light appeared before the door, in a way that was very HALish. “Why?” Red’s voice asked, accessing a speaker from God knew where. 

“I need to complete the daily tasks.” Inferno replied, keeping his voice even and smooth. He tilted his head up to eye the light, still unsure if it was a camera or a distraction the AI used to spring some kind of trap on them. 

“There is no need, I’ve already done them.” Red Alert said. As he had said, every morning, for the entire time Inferno had been acting as Station Master. 

“Thank you, you didn’t have to.” Inferno said. “I do need to check them off though.” 

_ ‘I have already alerted Command to their completion.’  _  Inferno thought, seconds before Red Alert said it. He choked back a sigh. 

“Thank you, but Ultra Magnus has asked that I sign off on them as well.” He said. 

“Ultra Magnus has accepted my sole signature for years. I do not see why he would now require yours.” Red Alert was getting a bit touchy now, a bite to the voice where there hadn’t been one prior. AI voices were no longer robotic, but instead made up of a random mix of previously recorded voices. All so that they appeared more human, and less “artificial.” 

“Alright.” Inferno gave up, as he had given up, every morning. “But I do need to check on the room. I want to pick up where I left off yesterday.” 

A pause. Inferno knew the AI was considering his options, as he always did. Just as they both knew Inferno would win in the end. At least on this--because Inferno had raised an excellent, inescapable point. Red Alert was fully capable of running the station by himself--even if Inferno thought the workload was far too much. He was not however, able to pick up all the paperwork.

Government regulations, as they always were, were horrifically old school. In the 21st century faxes were the only way the US Government would send “confidential” information. In the 31st, physical paperwork was required to make a number of systems clear. 

Neither made any sense but neither did half the things the government did, then or now. 

The result was the security room floor being covered in piles of paperwork. An entire ocean, really. Inferno wasn’t sure when the last time Red Alert had allowed someone into the security room was (it certainly wasn’t for the entire duration of the prior Station Master, that was for sure) but he guessed there was at least several years worth of paperwork that needed sorting through. 

Here, Red Alert had been forced to admit defeat. It remained to be the only reason Inferno was let into the rooms--Red Alert had been extraordinarily cautious about him even being near the bank of monitors, nevermind the computer.

It was something though, so Inferno was happy to take it. 

_ ‘Slow progress is still progress.’ _ His fire Chief had told him, over and over. ‘ _ Patience and timing is a more important part of our job than the public will ever think it is. If something isn’t time just right, it can throw off the whole operation.  _

_ ‘Nerves won’t help you in a ship-fire. Frustration, worry, doubt--those have no place on the front lines. Not ours, anyway. Courage isn’t just meeting danger, it’s greeting it like an old friend. It’s acting calm to help those panicking around you. Only a clear mind can truly help save others.’  _

It was a long speech but one Inferno knew by heart. It had saved him more than once, and allowed him to save others countless times. Just because he was no longer a firefighter, didn’t mean it didn’t count here.

Not when his job clearly involved winning over an AI who’d been fucked over before.

“Fine.” Red Alert said, the door unlocking with a series of clicks. Inferno spoke his thanks and entered, thinking first of what area he wanted to clean today, and secondly of how clear it was Red Alert’s paranoia didn’t just stem from a few malfunctions. 

Digging through the stations archives as a lot harder when you technically couldn’t get into them. Thankfully the station’s SIC kept a meticulous paper record, and happily allowed Inferno to take it over once interest was expressed. 

“It’s my job, isn’t it?” He’d said, but worried over the implications that the last few SM’s hadn’t even bothered to go this far. It appeared all they did once they stopped fighting Red was sit around and drink. 

At least Ultra Magnus was someone the AI respected. Inferno had tried asking a few times how the man had done that but none of the answers were very forthcoming. Just a lot about protocols and security and things that left Inferno’s head drooping. 

At least the paper archives held something. A clear look into at least one reason Red Alert was the way he was. 

The AI had malfunctioned. He had also had a string of bad Station Masters from the start, two of which had been jailed over it. The station itself had been passed around the Autobot army for a while, before someone decided to do--whatever it was Rodimus did with it. 

In both cases, Red had been blamed for not catching his SMs, or alerting proper authorities for what they were doing. Combing through what little he had, Inferno couldn’t see how Red was supposed to be able to figure it out--it looked like both SMs had been locked him out of numerous systems. The AI, having been new--and yes, also having a malfunction--hadn’t known he was allowed access to those systems. 

That at least, explained his reluctance to just hand the place over. 

Nevermind just how many Station Masters Red had--Inferno wouldn’t exactly trust a newcomer either. Sure it had been years, and yes, Red had been cleared to work with his malfunction being considered “operable” but--still. 

It explained something. As well as gave something for Inferno to think about, as he went around picking up the sea of papers and carefully sorting them into piles. This task, at least, would take him a solid week to complete--more if he stretched it out. He had time. 

He just hoped the time he had was enough to get through to Red.

xXx

Two more days and Inferno hadn’t gotten anywhere. Talking to Red was a akin to traversing a minefield--he was never quite sure what topic would set the AI off. He hadn’t gotten kicked out of the room yet though, so he considered things a win. 

At least Ultra Magnus took over on the weekends. 

It was unusual for the SIC to do so but then, Inferno was quickly realizing everything was unusual on this station--more so than the recruiter warned. 

He’d have been less comfortable with it if Red Alert wasn’t as paranoid as he was. If nothing else, Red Alert could be trusted to raise the alarm the second something went wrong--and Inferno would be the first to know. Reluctance  to accept him or not, his implants had been purposefully formatted so they were the easiest for Red Alert to reach. 

To the point where Red often used him as a walking camera--looking out of his eyes without warning. Just another thing to adjust to, Inferno figured. His firewalls were tight enough that the AI couldn’t exactly rummage around in his head, but he’d certainly gained more access that he was necessarily allowed. 

Another thing on the list that had no doubt freaked a few former SMs out. 

Inferno didn’t care. If that’s what made Red comfortable then that’s what he’d do, so long as the AI stayed respectful. Which he had for the most part--and by this point Inferno had grown so used to him piggybacking that when he woke up to find Red gone it felt--odd. 

_‘Probably just switched over to Ultra Magnus._ ’ He thought, going through his routine--but still. Something felt off. 

xXx

The mess hall had been converted into an obstacle course. Inferno felt like he shouldn’t have been surprised and yet, here he was! 

The station map he was using was clearly outdated--Ultra Magnus had explained it was the newest version Red Alert had allowed him to print. It was clearly from a few decades prior, and no doubt didn’t include a number of updates. 

Including, this, apparently.

“So if one wanted food…” He asked the first person he saw, and was promptly given directions to two different bars. 

He wasn’t surprised much about that, either. 

xXx

The sense of something wrong grew as Inferno made his way to the bar closest to him.  _ Visages  _ was a fancier place then he expected to see out here, and the interior far more delicately decorated than he’d ever imagine a small-station bar could look. 

He wanted to think it was that--his general surprise, that was unsettling him, but he knew himself better than that. Red Alert hadn’t checked in. Not even a “brush” to see if he was there. 

To go from having the AI ping him constantly to suddenly being ghosted just...didn’t sit well. 

Once again he tried to tell himself he was likely just haunting Ultra Magnus, only this time, his thoughts decided to spit out giving away ground seemed highly unlike for a paranoid thing such as Red. 

He resolved to at least visit Magnus and ask about it today, then sat down to enjoy lunch. 

He’d gotten as far as ordering and getting a drink when someone started yelling in his ear. 

“Man you’re handling Red Alert really well!”

“Thanks?” Inferno asked, turning to look at the guy who’d plopped down next to him. Well built, decently muscled, blonde hair and teeth so white they made his skin look pink. A walking stereotype of a pilot.

Inferno hoped he was a techie. 

“You’ve got to be the first person to get it to consistently allow you into the security room! Thing’s a total nutcase about that!”The man said, slapping him on the back so hard it lurched Inferno forward a good foot.  

It was uncomfortable for a number of reasons, including the now hand print shaped bruise he was certain he had, the use of the term “it”  and the fact that talking trash about a Station AI while on the station was never the best idea. Especially not where the AI could blatantly hear it, instead of sensibly, over comms or something. “How’d you hear about that?” He asked, trying not to let his discomfort show. 

“You know how small stations are. Any new thing is news! Name’s Getaway by the way--no need for an introduction, I already know yours!” A small chuckle--and then Inferno realized he must have done a poorer job than he thought because he added; 

“Oh don’t worry, it’s not listening in. Captain boxes Red in on the weekends. Gives us all some sanity time.” He followed it with a boisterous laugh that Inferno immediately disliked

“Boxes him in?” Inferno echoed, stomach suddenly clenching. Surely they couldn’t mean... ? 

“You know--blocks its access. You can’t really shut down an AI, especially not a Station AI, but you can override em. Rodimus shuts it down until it can only access one of the broken AV rooms.” A large, conspiratorial grin was shot Inferno’s way. “ It can’t control anything when locked in there.” 

“How’d he manage to do that?” Inferno asked, trying not to give away how horrified he was. “Shouldn’t Red have been able to stop him?” 

“Yeah but we got it during an update.” Getaway leaned in, talking in the same animated way one used to tell an daring story. “It was a trick and a half just to get that AI  _ to _ update, but we said it was essential for some part or another not to fry. Freaked ‘em out enough that we got it to accept the download. The second it accepted it,  _ bam!” _ Getaway clapped his hands. “No crazy bullshit on the weekends!” 

It was beyond horrific. It was torture, for a Station AI. They were physically built into the station--not being able to access it was the same was the same as a human going into a vegetative state awake. Being unable to talk, move, or alert anyone to the fact they were there, thought to be in a coma the entire time. 

Nevermind that the only way for Red Alert to be completely “shut down” was to not give him  access to any kind of outer connections--internet, comms, a general entertainment screen-- nothing he could piggyback on. 

They weren’t sending him into a room. They were sending him into solitary confinement. 

“Who’s in control of the station when he’s locked away like that?” Inferno asked, mind reeling.

“You now!” Getaway said happily. “Before that we just kinda took turns. Nothing really happens much out here until it does, you know? In an emergency we’d unlock the little bastard but until then, things can run just fine for the weekend.” 

It was a Station Master’s worst nightmare, come to life. 

“Rodimus is in charge of this?” Inferno asked faintly. He felt the absence of Red Alert the longer time went on, but now it was urgent. 

“Yawp. Probably the only good thing he’s ever done.” An overly dramatic eyeroll there, and Getaway was slowly becoming one of the most annoying people Inferno had met. 

“Do you know where he is? By any chance? I have a few, uh, more questions.” Questions and a strong desire to yell. 

“Dunno. Check the maps maybe? Now that you have access to ‘em with Red Alert gone.” Getaway grinned.

“Thanks.” Inferno said. “I’ll do that.”

He did.

xXx

“Look I get it,” Rodimus Prime, acting commander of the _Lost Light_ as well as it’s supposed Captain (Don’t ask Inferno how that worked, he’d been shushed the first time he’d asked why a  _ space station _ had a _ Captain. _ ) said, feet kicked up on his desk, spinning a pen between his fingers. “It’s bizarre, against code and it freaks a lot of people out. But trust me, this is the only way we can get anything done. We consider it to be a nice compromise.”

_ 'Red Alert would have had to agree for it to be a compromise.'  _ Inferno thought, but choked it back. 

“Ultra Magnus agreed to go along with this?” He said desperately. It was a last ditch effort in a series of them. He’d been here for twenty minutes, arguing Red Alert’s release,  and had gotten absolutely nowhere. 

“He did after Red Alert accused him of being a Remulak spy and locked him out of all his computers.” Rodimus said, changing from spinning the pen to throwing it up and catching it. Implanted tattoos in the shape of flames ran up and down strong, dark-brown arms, animated with flickering lights. 

“Like I said, I get it. This isn’t what I want to do either--but we just can’t operate fully when Red Alert’s, well, himself.” He shrugged, a movement causing him to almost miss catching his pen. “We don’t know what else to do with him.” 

At least Rodimus referred to Red as a “him” rather than an “it.” Inferno thought dully. 

He sat for a moment, struggling to come up with something, anything--and came ended up with an idea that made him cringe. He went forward with it anyway. 

“Transfer him to my room.” Inferno demanded, sitting up as he decided upon the action. 

Rodimus stared at him, startled. “What?”

“Instead of the box or room or whatever it is you have him in--transfer him to my room.” It was stupid, and likely going to drive him nuts but it was also _ right.  _

Rodimus frowned, finally sitting up himself. “I don’t know…”

“You had to have a few tech guys who came up with the program that locked him in right? Should be easy to remote in and change the room.” Inferno stared his Captain down, backbone straight as a rod. 

“Uh…” 

Inferno leaned in, face serious. “You can transfer him over to my room or I can bother you about it every weekend, until you do. You won’t be able to get away from me or--” thoughts went wild, and Inferno reached for one desperately, “--or Ultra Magnus!"

He hadn’t been on the ship a full week and he already knew that was the right threat. 

“I have all the access codes and the updated Station map and I have no problems giving him unlimited access.” Yup. Yup he could see it in Rodimus’s stupidly blue eyes--no one wanted Magnus on their ass. Not when Inferno could supply the SIC said persons _exact location._  

“Well shit.” Rodimus said, defeated. “You realize you’re gonna regret this, right?” 

_ ‘Yes.’ _ Inferno thought. “Not even remotely.” He said. 

Red Alert was transferred that day.

xXx

 

“What happened?” Was the immediate demand two seconds after the transfer went through. “Are we under attack?!” Lights shot on and off, speakers cackling to life then abruptly cutting out. His terminal--locked out of most of the ship as demanded by Rodimus--

“No, we’re fine.” Inferno assured, sitting on his bed and watching the AI perform a computer version of a freak out around his room. “I had them transfer you over to my room.” 

He could practically feel Red Alert’s suspicion. “Why?” 

“Because it wasn’t right.” Inferno growled. “This isn’t either, but,” He gave a pat to his room terminal, “we’ll get there.”

Red Alert responded by locking him out of everything. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike the other series I have attempted, this one is involves a bunch of short, snapshot-ish stories that lead up to everyone interacting over an event. So all the stories pretty much end on cliffhangers or what have you until you get to that final piece. 
> 
> Which is why this one resolves itself the way it does--because Red Alert and Inferno's story picks back up later.
> 
> Warnings: Same as the last time really, only this chapter has a masturbation scene lol.

 

Paper Planets

Ch 2

Who are you to give me tips on me?  
You don’t know me - And that’s the problem!

 

* * *

 

Red Alert was a horrible roommate.

Inferno hadn’t expected anything less so he didn’t bother complaining. Just explained constantly why things were what they were, and only fought for the important things--like being allowed in his room. Otherwise he let Red rearrange everything. From taking over his terminals to adjusting the shower temperature. 

“Whatever you want.” He’d said, expecting to regret it. 

Which he did--particularly when Red became convinced something or another was wrong with the Station. But the benefits outweighed having to occasionally talk the panicky AI down, particularly since giving Red even limited access to the Station seemed to improve his anxiety.

Through it all, Inferno made himself a promise. For one day, on the weekend, he wouldn’t leave Red Alert alone for one. He would stay in his room, the full day, to ensure the AI wasn’t in isolation for long periods of time. 

He succeeded.

Red Alert was good enough not to lock him out again, though he certainly locked him out of the terminals. That was all right, Inferno hadn’t had them long enough to put anything of use on them. He’d made sure to copy over most of his personal entertainment library--novels, movies, and the like, and that was pretty much all that was on them. 

It didn’t stop Red from excessively flipping through things, scanning, rescanning, and generally digging, but Inferno politely ignored that. 

What he didn’t ignore was that after the second week, Red set up shop in his room. 

AI’s could keep track of a human in the back of their “mind” so to speak--and a Station AI could do quite a bit better than that, but neither were fully “present” in the room unless summoned or requested. Red Alert went from panicking over what could be happening to the Station in his absence to slowly suggesting Inferno give him more access--mostly to the security cameras so he could “just watch.” 

They both knew that was bullshit, but Inferno ended up agreeing to move a dozen or so monitors into the room anyway. For no other reason than that Red Alert had requested it--and  that the tone the AI asked it in had been both defensive and hesitant. As though he expected rejection and thought himself stupid for even bothering. 

He got a shrug and a “Okay.” in response.

He monitored the move anyway, bouncing between looking “through” Inferno’s eyes and through the terminal, carefully checking over each monitor as it was attached. 

Inferno waited a week to make sure the AI was settled properly--and seemingly, happier than he had been (or at least less stressed sounding.) Before he launched his own plans. 

He began (gasp!) talking. 

To Red Alert.

A lot.

The AI didn’t answer for a few days, beyond the most basic of things--but ever so slowly seemed to adapt to it as a “quirk” of Inferno’s. Or at least grew used to it. Inferno only tried it when he was confined to his room, still half afraid the AI would lock him out of anywhere else. He’d dragged out the sorting of papers as long as he could, but even Red Alert had to know half of what he was doing by now was bullshit. 

The plan was to slowly get Red to give him access to some “unimportant” things, and so far he’d gotten access to exactly one, broken terminal. He’d been tasked with fixing it, which, Inferno had thought, could definitely be used to push things further. What else was broken that Red Alert himself couldn’t fix? 

Particularly since most of the things a normal Station AI did have--little drones and the like, had all been disabled and kept away.

Inferno couldn’t really blame Rodimus for that one. 

In the meantime he spent the one day he allotted himself away from the paranoid bot to study up on some psychology. 

“You really think human psychological techniques--which often don’t even work on humans--are going to work on an AI?” Grapple asked, staring over Inferno’s shoulder at the datapad he was flicking through.

“Yes and no.” He answered, not bothered by his friend’s total invasion of his personal space or of his line of questioning--both of those things were just typical Grapple. “Yes because we both know AI’s are more than  _ just _ a computer program, and no because it’s really kinda down to how the individual responds.” He flicked through another few pages, before setting the pad down.

“I mean, I guess anything goes at this point?” Grapple said, clearly trying to say something positive. Inferno didn’t mind--he already knew most everyone on base thought he was wasting his time. 

Far as he figured, even AI’s needed company. They were made to mimic human minds, human personalities--and beyond that, made to pair with humans. It was the entire reason none of them went Skynet-evil-doombot on everyone. 

Human emotion, as it turned out, was just as much of a downfall as it was a strength. 

AI’s were always given careful consideration to their personalities, to prevent total meltdowns and takeovers--and all of them, Inferno personally thought, were created to be a little needy. Not one he had encountered, not even the hardest of battle AI’s, remained calm when the people they loved or valued were endangered. 

Not even Red Alert. 

It wasn’t exactly a dastardly plan. “Make friends with the Station AI” sounded more like a plot to a children's program than anything else--but it was important. Not just to gain access to the security room either.

The more he looked into Red Alert’s past the more horrible it looked, and Inferno was determined to be the one person to make a difference. Even if Red Alert never trusted him for it. Even if he never really got anywhere. 

It was just his nature to try. 

xXx

Inferno hadn’t expected trying to be fun to begin with but he hadn’t expected it to be so damn confusing either! 

Take now for example. He’d been having a lovely, if not very odd conversation with Red about the effectiveness of certain enhancements and how hackable some were (hey, you had to start somewhere, even with the AI Inferno was increasingly thinking had paranoid delusions on top of being just plain old paranoid)  and promptly gotten the cold shoulder when he’d agreed that a certain chip was the worst upgrade one could get. Human  _ or  _ AI. 

This wasn’t exactly unusual either--conversations with Red tended to have the effect of making Inferno feel like he was Alice lost in Wonderland. He never knew what would get him the silent treatment, or what would set him off. Once--and only once--Inferno had joked an unusual noise on the audio recorder might be a super secret hidden spy and the resulting panic had made him regret that decision for the remainder of the week. 

_ ‘Often times those experiencing high amounts of stress simply want to vent, and have their feelings validated rather than try and discuss how to fix their problems. One should ask if they want advice before any attempts are made to give it.’ _ Said three out of five psychology books, and so, Inferno tried it. 

“I’m sorry if I upset you.” He said, walking over the main terminal Red Alert seemed to use. “I didn’t mean to. If there's anything you want to talk about--or not talk about, you’re welcome to tell me and I’ll do my best.” He gave an awkward pat to one of the main servers, knowing full well Red Alert’s AI wouldn’t feel that, but feeling like he should do it anyway. 

“I’m done for today, and I’m going to go the bar before I turn in--you’re welcome to stay with me if you’d like.” 

It was what he’d said everyday for the past two weeks. Three months he’d had Red in his room on the weekends, and for all three months Red had fled the second he’d been allowed. The first month or so he’d done his best to get back at a reasonable hour to his room just in case his offer had been taken--particularly since he was beginning to understand Red’s routines. 

It was why he took longer at the bar today, talking with Grapple and hanging out with a few of the other friends he’d made. There was no point in rushing back to a dark room.

So of course, his room wasn’t dark when he went in. 

Inferno raised a brow at the monitors, dutifully showing images from the security feeds. 

Part of him wanted to ask if Red was alright, the other thought calling attention to it at all was a bad, bad, move. 

Instead he just nodded his head in the direction of the terminal, and gave a polite; “Hey, Red.” as an acknowledgement. 

He didn’t get a response, but he hadn’t exactly expected one either.

xXx

Slowly, things began to change. 

Red Alert started popping in a few hours after Inferno’s shift had ended, staying longer and longer periods in Inferno’s room than he had prior. Or rather, focusing more of his attention there, anyway. He stayed longer in Inferno’s head too, a presence that felt akin to wearing an extra piece of high tech jewelry. The kind you hooked up to your personals and ran rampant through your head like a hamster with a particularly squeaky wheel. 

Little things were suddenly easier. The shower temperature was perfect when Inferno stepped in. A television show he liked to watch before bed was queued up the second he slipped into his pajamas. If he muttered a question--such as wondering where the hell Grapple had run off with his toolkit--the information would be quietly slipped to him. 

For every single thing done, Inferno made a point to thank Red Alert.  He also begun making a point of inviting him to do things beyond simply converse. AI’s couldn’t manifest into the physical realm without a mechanical body of some kind, but there were plenty of other things to do beyond talking and working. For the most part the Station AI remained firm on the fact that he should always be working, but occasionally, Inferno caught his interest. 

Once he’d even managed to get him to play a game, though Inferno wasn’t sure if that was because he’d been very, very drunk and very, very annoying. 

Red Alert was even relaxing, letting small things go or simply taking Inferno’s word that something was ok. It wasn’t a big change, but to Inferno it seemed massive. 

They were building  _ trust. _

He vowed not to ruin that. To not let anything get in the way of what he was building here, little by little.

What he didn’t count on was Red Alert ruining it himself. 

xXx

Humans had needs. 

This was something he’d never been particularly embarrassed by, but Inferno would be the first to tell you how open he was to life in general. People needed stress relievers and playing with one's body was one of the easiest ways to do that. 

As a species humans had mostly gotten over killing each other over sexual preferences and visual differences, to the point where it was publicly acceptable to ask if you preferred one partner or multiple. Certain people, sects, cults and religions stuck their noses up at varying things but it was at least a  _ bit  _ more relaxed than it had been centuries prior, which was fairly typical of history if you asked him. 

Inferno had been lucky in that he’d never been left wanting for a partner--socializing, and sex, came easily to him. Part of it was his appearance and part of it was his easy going nature, though he personally thought most of it lay in the fact he found beauty in almost every one. 

(“You’re a total slut.” Grapple had told him after he’d relayed a few drunken escapades.

“Totally.” He agreed, in good humor. “Jealous?”

“ _ No! _ \--But yeah, kinda.” Grapple said with a look that was half admiration and half disbelief. “Seriously, four people in an anti-grav chamber?! At once?”  )

Now things were--different. Not just because of his newly added mechanical bits, or the fact he wasn’t sure how he physically held up anymore (enough to have sex surely! Just not the kind that let him hold up a lover against a wall, or to do any of his former favorite positions and maybe he might tire out earlier….) but because he was straight up too busy to do it. 

The sex things he could always figure out. Red Alert…

Red Alert was an ongoing life project who didn’t just take up his free time, but was getting suspiciously jealous when Inferno flirted with anyone else. Not by doing things anyone else would _ consider  _ suspicious--but to Inferno, who knew him fairly well by now? 

Totally suspicious.

_ ‘It’s probably a byproduct of the fact he doesn’t have friends or anyone else to talk to.’  _ He told himself, the fifth time he’d flirted with the cute bartender only to have Red Alert suddenly ping him with an “emergency.”  _ ‘Even I know AI’s talk to each other, and I am certain they think just as highly of Red as everyone else does.’  _

Which is to say they wouldn’t go anywhere near Red Alert without someone threatening them to do it. 

He wasn’t about to go around and ask people to be friendly, so he just. Put it aside. Figured he’d get to the bottom of that little behavior later, when he was done completely earning Red Alert’s trust and the AI knew he wasn’t going to suddenly run out on him because Red was mucking up his sex life. 

It did mean he didn’t feel bad for masturbating in his room when Red was there. 

AI’s and sex were tricky things to mix. People pretended they weren’t, just as some pretended AI’s were simply advanced computers or that giving someone mechanical leg aide meant they were “damaged.” 

Of course, having an AI often meant having a being who was “with” you 99 percent of the time. Most AI’s kept an “eye” on their favorite humans, even if it was just leaving a few connections open to their personals or having terminal cameras on to check in now and then. A kind of “back of the mind” sort of deal.

Station AI’s were notoriously more clingy than your average AI. It was just a known quirk of theirs and Inferno had been prepared to have his life invaded before Red Alert took it to the level he did.

So no. 

He didn’t feel bad for pleasuring himself, and getting some of the tension and stress out the fun way. He didn’t! At all!

_ ‘Maybe if you repeat it a few more times you’ll believe it.’ _ He said to himself, trying to relax into his bed, having gone through the process of taking off his walker. It didn’t matter that Red Alert was clearly in the room, flicking through screens and scrutinizing the weald work one of the Station mechanics was doing. 

_ ‘He’s busy.’ _ Inferno told himself, opening up his selection of vibrators.  _ ‘And even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t care. He’s seen you do this before.’  _ Hell, he’d even warned the AI he was going to do this--privately of course. Always did. It just felt like the polite thing to do, even if writing out; ‘Hey I’m going to do adult stuff in my room tonight so if you don’t want to see that this is your warning’ felt super awkward. 

As always, Red Alert hadn’t responded.

So. 

Here he was then. Hands moving his legs about until they were comfortable, chosen vibrator in hand, cock already half hard.

Red wasn’t gonna let him take over a monitor to watch porn on, not that he couldn’t just download one directly to a datapad or something--but he didn’t want to. Hadn’t wanted to. 

Not after he’d tried and ended up more frustrated than satisfied. 

He hadn’t exactly been able to pinpoint why, just that it wasn’t--what he wanted.

_ ‘What do you want?’  _ He thought to himself, managing to be both aroused and annoyed. His free hand idly stoked in slow, up down motions while his other one played with the vibrator, clicking through its settings. 

He’d always said he’d wanted a long term partner. Always said he’d settle down at some point sexcapades wise. But that didn’t have to mean now. Particularly when he was invested in getting some of his own self worth back, and he knew himself. Knew he’d want to do it through connecting through to others--proving to himself he was still--well, himself. 

Inferno. 

Even with the new job and mechanical bits.

So he forced himself to lay back. Visualize the pretty bartender, or the handsome mechanic he’d seen working on one of the combat mechs. 

Got lost in his vibrator and a fantasy. 

Lost enough that he didn’t realize when the vibe abruptly changed settings on him. 

He  _ did  _ notice when it abruptly ramped to its highest setting before dropping down to its lowest. 

For a moment he thought it had disconnected from his personal--he’d been using his own “head” to control it, so to say, and was puzzled further when it appeared to be connected. 

It took him a moment longer to realize it wasn’t connected to him, but to  _ someone else.  _

The vibration abruptly increased, forcing a moan, and in the two seconds pleasure warred with confusion, his personals answered his question.

Red Alert was controlling it. 

“Red!” He yelped, yanking the vibe off his dick. “Stop!” 

“Sorry.” Was the immediate response, turning the vibrator off. Then quieter; “Too much?” 

“No!” Inferno didn’t yell exactly, but he was still struggling to get his body to move while trying to figure out which terminal to gape at. 

He decided on the middle one when Red Alert, sounding confused, explained; “The past times you have pleasured yourself you repeated that pattern.”

“Yes,” Inferno grit out, the knowledge that  _ Red _ had taken over the vibrator running around wild in his brain. “--but I was controlling it!” 

“Would you prefer a different pattern then?”--and  _ that _ idea was both horrifying and hot as hell. Inferno’s cock jumped at the very thought, demanding to be touched, forcing him to come to the sudden realization that he liked this. Liked the idea of Red Alert. 

In bed.

_ ‘Fuck!’ _

“I don’t want  _ any _ pattern!” Inferno barked, confusion morphing into panic. He couldn’t actually want Red Alert like that, could he? That couldn’t be what his brain had decided he was missing, was it!?

His super hard dick definitely said otherwise, the mixture of arousal and horror morphing into a chant of  _ ‘Oh God’ _ repeating through his head. 

“I don’t understand.” Red Alert was saying. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

_ “No!”   _ Because it was, but it _wasn't,_ Inferno realized. He wanted it if it was consensual--only if it was consensual-- and fuck, until now, he hadn’t even thought about Red like that! Did Red want this?! Or was this--something the AI thought was expected of him? Had other people demanded he take over like that? Had others used him like that?!

That finally kicked him into gear, the sheer horror overturning the arousal. 

“No,” He repeated, trying to calm down, running a hand through sweat soaked hair. “Not with you.” 

This wasn’t something Red had to do. Wasn’t something he should do unless it was talked about and fuck-shit-damn, how had he not seen this coming!? He knew better too--AI’s who changed hands often had almost always been solicited for sex! 

“I was trying to prevent this!” He moaned, drawing his hands down over his eyes. “I should have- _ -fuck. _ ” He didn’t know what he should have done. Just popped up one day and said  _ ‘Hey by the way, I just want you to know I’ll never abuse you? _ ’ Because that sounded a whole lot like what someone abusive would say!

_ ‘But you still should have said something!’  _

“I understand.” Red said, voice abruptly back to his normal, formal monotone. “I misunderstood.”

Inferno wasn’t listening. 

“I won’t do it again.” The AI said. 

Lost in his own thoughts, Inferno didn’t give a response to that one either. As the minutes ticked on, Red Alert began shutting off all of his monitors. 

It was the final click of the main terminal that brought Inferno out of his panic, made him realize the room was suddenly a whole lot darker. 

Red Alert had left--and no number of comm calls or request brought him back.    
  


xXx

He was an idiot.

_ ‘And a moron, and a jackass and--’ _

Inferno sat in one of the mess halls--a literal hall in this case, that had been converted into an eatery--and once again replayed everything that had happened the prior day. 

He’d fucked up.

Red Alert had handed him a situation he could have easily responded to, could have clarified his intentions about, but nope. Inferno couldn’t do any of those things, oh no. Instead he’d freaked out and left the impression he wanted nothing to do with his Station AI. 

Just like all the other Station Masters had done.

_'You had to say not with you.'_ He thought miserably. _'You couldn't have said it any other way. You. Dumbass.'_

“You know the only one making this awkward is you.” Grapple said, having appeared next to him sometime during the last five minutes. 

Inferno didn’t startle, but he did take a moment to be surprised that Red hadn’t warned him someone had sat down. Usually the AI did, announcing everyone who appeared to want to interact with Inferno the same way a rich butler would. 

That he hadn’t didn’t bode well for how either of them were handling things.

“Lot of people do shit with their AIs.” Grapple added, clearly intent on barging ahead with this conversation despite Inferno trying to telepathically tell him stop. “His old Station Master or whatever probably expected him to do it.” 

“He didn’t like any of his previous Station Masters!” Inferno protested, feeling his voice raise and being unable to stop it. 

Grapple raised an eyebrow in response. “How do you know that?”

“Well they all quit for one!”

“Yeah, but that didn’t meant Red didn’t like them.” Grapple said, before leaning in closer to Inferno.

It didn’t offer them a lick of privacy but the gesture was appreciated. 

“Say he did like a few, and they tried to put up with him until they couldn’t. Or worse--let’s say he liked a few, and they trash talked him the way everyone else does.”

“Ok.” Inferno said, because Grapple seemed to want him to say it.

“So here you’re forced to work with someone who blatantly doesn’t like you, or worse, is only pretending to like you, and doesn’t care that you can hear them go on about how much they’re pretending. You do everything you can, but nothing ever really changes that, and nothing is gonna make your own issues go away.”

‘I am aware of all of this.” Inferno said, because he was. He’d thought about this plenty. How other Station Masters could have acted--or did act, when he found notes of theirs in Magnus’s magical paper library. 

“Yes,” Grapple said, in the same way you spoke to a friend who was taking too long to get a joke, “--so you’re stuck. You’re stuck, and simply waiting until the person decides you’re no longer worth being around. Now,” he flicked a finger forward, pointing it at Inferno. “Let’s say you found someone you like again, who seems to be okay with your issues. History says he’s gonna get fed up and bounce. What do you do?” 

“I...don’t know.” Inferno said. “I guess I’d have to think about it but…”

“What’d Red do?” Grapple interrupted, before sitting back and taking a loud sip of his drink.

It was pointed, and very on the nose, and Inferno wasn’t too happy about having to be dragged into this particular realization, but he got the point his friend was trying to make.  

“Do what he thought would make me happy.” He said, to show he got it. “And then when I freaked out instead--”

“He thought the other shoe had finally dropped.” Grapple said, then frowned. “Or not shoe necessarily but--you know, whatever AI’s have.”

“I get it.” 

“You gotta let him know you were freaking out because you have hang-ups using AIs, not because you were upset at him.” 

“I  _ get _ it!” Infero repeated, shooting his own pointed look. “ And I don’t have AI hang-ups I have consent issue hang-ups!” 

“Did you tell him that?” Grapple said smugly, because he knew Inferno hadn’t. 

“Might as well have.” He grumbled, standing up. 

“Might as well is not a clear, explicit discussion of things. Try again.” 

“I hate you.” 

“I know.” Grapple

xXx

“I’m sorry.”

It’s a start, and it’s a poor one, but Inferno knows he needs to begin somewhere--and standing in front of the security door rooms looking miserable seemed as good as place as any. 

Particularly since he’d taken two days to figure out his own head before attempting to make sense of it to Red--and that the AI had not once tried to contact him in that time. 

“I didn’t react like I should have. I didn’t explain myself well either.” He took a deep breath, trying to focus on making this coherent. He had a lot of things he wanted to say, but a lot of it was jumbled up, even now, and the last thing he wanted to do was cause more problems. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you.” 

“I’m an AI. You cannot hurt me.” Red Alert interrupted. Inferno took a breath when he heard him--he’d half expected Red to blow him off.  “No explanation needed. The door is unlocked.” The AI continued. 

He sounded the same as he always did, but Inferno wasn’t fooled. 

Just because it was unlocked didn’t mean Red Alert wanted him to come in. 

“It’s not an explanation that’s needed,” Inferno agreed, staying right where he was. “It’s an apology.” 

“You are...apologizing?” Red Alert said, confused, the words hitting Inferno right in the gut. He doubted anyone had ever apologized to the AI before, instead just blaming him for anything they could. 

Even stupid weird sexual mishaps. 

“To you, yeah.” Inferno said, because he needed it to be clear. Needed Red Alert to _ know. _ “I am sorry for how I reacted. I am sorry for not explaining my thoughts sooner, and I am so _ , so _ sorry for how everyone treats you.” He’d spent a long time thinking on that too. On how he could improve it--and the best he could come up with was to start calling people on their shit. Even Getaway

Especially Getaway.

“I’m going to do what I can to make sure they treat you better. And--” He adds because it’s all coming out now, premade speech going right out the window, “--you don’t need to earn my affection. I like you as you are, Red Alert. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“How do I know?”

Inferno blinked, startled at the accusation. “Know what?”

“That you won’t leave me?”

That was the second direct hit to Inferno’s gut, the emotion choking the Station Master. “I promise you, no matter what happens, or how mad I am in the moment,” Inferno said, trying not to lose it entirely. “I will  _ never _ leave you.”

The AI was  quiet for a long time. Long enough that Inferno thought he might have left, that this might have been too much for him. Maybe even that he’d gotten angry--disbelieving Inferno and thinking on how all the other Station Masters had failed him. 

Instead a quiet voice finally said; “Okay.” 

Then the door swung open--a clear invitation, and something Red Alert had never done before. 

“I believe you.” He added, just as quiet. 

In that moment, Inferno promised he would never give the AI any room to doubt him.

And he didn’t.

Not even when everything went to shit a year later. 


End file.
